Wherever the Road Might Lead
by netangel182
Summary: Our favorite characters are back... and they brought their children along for the ride. What happens when Will's daughter, Watt's son and Roland's daughter are all grown up?
1. DisclaimerAuthor's note

Disclaimer: I do not own anything associated with a knight's tale. A few characters are original, but if for some strange reason, you would like to incorporate them into your stories, feel free.

Author's note: Alright everyone. Sorry that it took me nearly two years to add onto this story. And you have no idea how much I appreciate that some of you have stuck with this and urged me on for almost two years now. I actually had to do a bit of a rewrite to make my new ideas fit with the first chapter, so you will find things a bit altered, but hopefully it is for the better. Again, thanks for your support. I promise to update on a regular basis now.


	2. A bedtime story indeed

Chapter 1: A bedtime story indeed

"And so, we strapped the lance to his arm. No armor, completely exposed." The children at Chaucer's feet stared up at him in anticipation.

"Geoff, what are you telling them?" Will asked, walking up behind the poet.

A small girl with flowing blonde curls stood up. "He is telling us about you, papa. You and mother."

"Is that right?" Will shot a small grin at Chaucer, who just shrugged.

"They asked."

A fiery redhead popped up behind Will's shoulder. "What about the bit where you were walking down the road without your knickers? Seems you left that part out."

Geoff ignored Watt's comment and turned back to the children. Just as he opened his mouth to continue the tale, Kate, Jocelyn and Christiana appeared.

"That's enough stories tonight, Geoff. It's late and we have a long day's ride ahead of us," Kate called, resting a hand on Watt's shoulder.

"But mother," the small boy piped up, "It was just getting to the good part."

"Uncle Geoff can finish his story tomorrow," Kate said gently, kissing him on the forehead. "Off to bed with you."

The little boy then turned to Watt. "Please Papa."

Watt ruffled his son's red hair. "You heard your mother, Gareth. To bed."

The two girls sitting at Chaucer's feet snickered as Gareth skulked toward the tent.

"You too, Gabriella," Will scolded gently.

The little blonde wrinkled her face in protest. "It's not fair, Papa. We never get to stay up."

"Bed, young lady," Jocelyn added, tapping her daughter lightly on the bottom in the direction of the tent that the children shared. 

Roland glanced at his daughter.

"I am going," she murmured, as she followed Gabriella across the small clearing created by the circle of tents.

"Abigail," Roland called.

The young girl turned, bracing herself for a scolding.

"Sweet dreams," he finished, blowing her a kiss.

Abigail broke into a bright smile. Nodding, she ducked into the tent after the other two.

With the children safely in bed, the old friends gathered around the fire, the couples cuddling closely to bar out the chill of the night.

"Ah to have another's body to keep you warm," Chaucer mused, taking a swig from the flask in his hand. "Alas my only comfort comes from this lovely little bottle."

"I do believe that you have had quite enough already," Kate said, pulling the bottle from his hand. "A day of riding after a night of drinking has never served you well, my dear poet."

Geoff cracked a smile. "The lady has a point. And so I take my leave. Goodnight dear friends."

The other chuckled as he swaggered to his tent, clearly inebriated. There was a large crash as he entered, followed by a muffled curse. Geoff stuck his head out the flap. "No worries, no permanent damage done."

That was the last they heard from Chaucer for the night, aside from a few muffled snores.

Kate sighed and held up the flask. "To six years."

She took a swig and passed the bottle around. When all had a chance to drink, Roland dropped a bucket of water on the fire and led Christiana toward their tent. "Goodnight friends."

* * *

A/N: OK. I know that I promised to continue last time and did not, but this time I swear I will post in the next two days. It's just that it is passed midnight and I have class in the morning, so please bear with me for a few more days. Thank goodness I am blessed with patient readers. You are all wonderful.


	3. The Herald

Chapter 2: The Herald

Twelve years later...

* * *

Gabriella cursed her skirt as she tried to maneuver her way out of the tent without dropping the royal blue silk into the mud. She skillfully made her way across the tournament grounds, avoiding the puddles that had been created from the previous day's rainstorm.

"Gabby!"

She turned quickly to see Abigail approaching, her long silky brown hair blowing in the light breeze.

"Your mother is looking for you," Abbi said as she came up beside her friend.

Gabby groaned, none to thrilled at the idea of joining her mother with the nobles. "Would you care to switch places for the day?"

Abbi let out a slight chuckle and replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Come on my lady, the court awaits."

She dragged a reluctant Gabby toward the lists, amused by her friend's discomfort.

The two soon linked arms as they walked along the fence, watching as the jousting began. Gabby stopped, leaning against the fence. One of the knights caught her attention, his method surprisingly crisp and effective. As the daughter of a knight, she knew to appreciate the hard work that went into a joust. "Look at that form."

"Yes," Abbi agreed, studying the knight. "Quite fit."

Gabby turned toward her friend, laughing. "I was speaking of his jousting."

"I was not," Abbi replied, raising an eyebrow.

Both girls broke into peals of laughter as the knight tilted once more. Gabby scanned the area, finding a young man wearing the knight's colors standing not far off. She quickly called him over.

"Yes, my lady?" he asked, bowing.

Gabby rolled her eyes, frustrated by the formality. "Who is that knight?"

"Sir Anton of Kent, lady," he replied.

Gabby glanced beside her at Abbi, who was all but staring at the young man.

"And you are, good sir?" Gabby asked with a mischievous grin on her face, causing Abbi to stare at her in shock.

He looked between the two girls for a moment, his green eyes dancing. "Christian, my lady. I am Sir Anton's herald."

"Well," Gabby said, prying Abigail away, "It was good to meet you herald."

They were only a few feet down the fence when he called after them "Whom shall I tell my lord inquired?"

Gabby turned, smiling. "Tell your lord that if he is curious, he must find out for himself."

When the girls were at a safe distance, Gabby turned to her friend. "Need I ask what you think of his form?"

Abbi scoffed, but the color rising in her cheeks gave her away all too quickly. She laughed in spite of herself. "Your mother is waiting."


	4. Young Love

Chapter 3: Young Love

Smiling, Gabby turned her attention back to the field before them. Knights lingered near their horses, making last minute adjustments to armor as their squires organized lances. In the far corner, she spotted her father, surrounded by Roland, Watt and Gareth. She caught her father's attention, waving wildly.

"You have raised a lovely young lady there, William," Chaucer said, adjusting one of the stirrups.

"That she is," Will murmured, smiling at his daughter. He couldn't have been more proud of the woman that Gabby had become. She had all the grace and beauty of her mother, but Will couldn't help admiring her spirit. He liked to think that he had something to do with that.

Gareth cocked a half smile when he saw Gabby and Abbi, his two best friends, laughing together near the fence. His attention was immediately pulled to Gabby, as it had been in recent days and he suddenly found it hard to breathe. Though her hair was pulled up on top of her head, a few stray blonde curls hung around her face, blowing in the breeze. The royal blue and silver dress that she wore fit her beautifully.

"Gareth, can you tighten that armor up for me?" Will asked, motioning to the metal plate that hung on his horse's head.

When Gareth didn't respond, Watt smacked him on the back of the head. "Son, do as Will asks ya."

Rubbing the back of his head, Gareth tore his attention from Gabby long enough to tend to the armor.

"I'd like to know where that boy's mind has been lately," Watt said, approaching his friends.

Chaucer cocked a smile. "I could wager a guess."

He nodded toward the girls standing by the fence. The men shifted the glances from the girls back to Gareth, who had finished with the armor and had returned his attention to Gabby.

"Ah, young love," Geoff mused.

Watt stared at his son. "Boy are we in trouble."


	5. Final Joust

"Lady Thatcher."

Gabby stopped laughing instantly when she heard her name being called. Rolling her eyes, she turned reluctantly to find a knight riding up to the fence. "Sir Lawrence."

He bowed his head to her. "You are looking as lovely as ever."

Gabby had to fight the urge to scoff and flee, choosing instead to bow silently.

"I will win this tournament for you, my lady. And we shall dance together at the feast tonight."

The very idea made Gabby's skin crawl. Sir Lawrence was nearly fifteen years her elder, a single knight who enjoyed preying on young noblewomen. "I fear, my lord, that you are mistaken. My father will win this tournament, and I will dance with whomever I choose. Good day, sir."

She quickly turned to leave, with Sir Lawrence watching her in shock. Abbi glanced between her friend and the knight for a moment before running to catch up to Gabby. "That was uncalled for."

"Urgh, can you blame me," Gabby asked, glancing back at Sir Lawrence, cringing.

Abbi rolled her eyes, pointing toward the nobles. "Your mother is waiting."

Gabby crumpled her face in protest. "Do I have to?"

Abbi gave her a little shove before she started toward her mother and Kate, who sat near the lists.

Jocelyn leaned toward Gabby as she joined her in the bench. "Where have you been, young lady? Must you always be late, even to your father's final joust?"

"I'm sorry," Gabby murmured inaudibly. She turned her attention to the joust just as Sir Anton struck his final blow, advancing to the next round. She cheered with the others, watching him ride over to his men.

The rest of the tournament continued without real event, her father advancing easily to the final round, where he would face Sir Anton.

Scanning the field, she caught a glimpse of her father smirking at the young knight. She smiled, knowing full well what was going through his mind: a challenge. It was rare to find someone of William's caliber to joust.

As Chaucer gave his final introduction, Gabby felt her eyes begin to water slightly. She loved living among the knights traveling from tournament to tournament, seeing the world with her friends and family by her side. It was all that she had known. The thought of leaving that life behind was frightening.

Trying to block thoughts of her impending future, she blinked the tears away and turned to watch the two knights tilt. They struck each other squarely on the chest, both breaking a lance.

Will rode back toward his squires, trying to catch his breath after Anton's solid hit.

"This kid's not half bad," Will said as he lifted his helmet.

Roland held up another lance for him. "He's a bit reckless."

"I know," Will replied, lowering his visor again before continuing quietly, "Reminds me of me twenty years ago."

They tilted again, each breaking a lance.

"You can beat the boy any time now, Will," Watt commented as Will approached.

Shaking off the last blow, he smirked at his friends. He took a deep breath to prepare for the final tilt of his career, the pressure mounting. He glanced across the field at Anton, who was reining his horse anxiously. Will couldn't have picked a better knight to face in his final joust. He felt something akin to passing the torch.

When the flag dropped, he charged toward the young knight with surprising fervor. He took careful aim, hitting Anton squarely on the chest. He smiled under his helmet when he felt Anton's lance glance off his shoulder, staying intact.

Gabby cheered with the other nobles as her father took the podium and the lord handed him a gold cast lion. She and her mother accepted the congratulations of the nobles around them before filing down onto the field.


	6. The Meeting

The banquet that evening was filled with knights and nobles, gathered to bid a fond farewell to Sir William, the greatest knight of his time.

Gabby was unamused, quickly lulled into boredom by the constant din of conversation. The cloud of pipe smoke that hung in the air was thick enough to make breathing difficult.

She sat beside her mother, impatiently waiting to be excused. A smoky hall surrounded by pretentious nobles was not how she intended to spend the last night of her last tournament. She longed, instead, to be sitting around the fire with Abbi and Gareth, listening to Geoff's stories into the wee hours of the morning.

Jocelyn watched Gabby drum her fingers on the table, glancing longingly at the door. She leaned in and whispered softly "Gabby, pay attention. Count Klein is coming this way."

"Mother," Gabby whined, none to thrilled by the men that her mother thrust upon her.

Jocelyn shrugged. "What? You are of the age to be marrying, no harm checking out the selection."

Gabby shifted uncomfortably, frowning at the prospect.

Finishing his conversation with one of the other knights, Will returned to his family, kissing his wife on the cheek. "Let the poor girl go, Jocelyn. She wants to be with her friends."

"Alright," Jocelyn conceded with a smile. "I am outnumbered. Go have fun."

Gabby smiled brightly, kissing her father on the cheek. "Thank you, Papa."

"You spoil her," Jocelyn said as she watched Gabby sprint out the door.

"She is young," Will replied softly, taking her hand. "Tonight is about celebration. Dance with me."

Once she was safely outside, Gabby took in a deep breath of fresh air. Slowly meandering around the tournament grounds, she began pulling the pins from her hair so the curls fell loose passed her shoulders.

She has just pulled out the last pin when she came across two men on the path. One she recognized easily as Sir Anton's herald. He bowed and Gabby nodded absently.

"Good evening, my lady," the other gentleman spoke up. "My herald tells me that you inquired after me this afternoon. Allow me to introduce myself; Sir Anton of Kent."

Gabby smiled, caught slightly off guard by the fire dancing in his caramel-colored eyes. "Good to meet you, my lord."

"I beg your pardon, my lady," Anton continued, brushing the dark hair from his eyes. "A name."

"Gabby," she replied, quickly correcting herself. "Gabriella Thatcher."

"Lady Thatcher," he repeated. "The daughter of a knight?"

"Yes, my lord."

Anton cracked a smile, a small dimple appearing in his right cheek. "It is good to meet you, Lady Thatcher. I look forward to seeing you again."

Gabby watched the pair walk away, a tingling settling in her stomach. Taking a deep breath, she turned and continued down the path.

Gareth stood in front of the hot flames, watching the metal turn to a glowing red. When it reached the perfect temperature, he moved from the flames to the anvil. Pulling out his hammer, he began to skillfully mold the metal into a beautifully crafted helmet.

He was so engrossed in his work that he didn't even hear Gabby enter the forge. She stood behind him, leaning on one of the support posts. Patiently waiting for him to finish, she watched in awe as the sheet of metal began to take shape.

Gareth returned the metal to the flame, stoking the coals to get more hear before wiping his brow.

"I thought that I would find you here."

The wound of Gabby's voice in the empty forge made Gareth jump slightly. He continued to work for a moment without facing her. "I promised Count Stephen this helmet before he leaves for Normandy."

He mobbed back to the anvil to make a few quick adjustments to the helmet before dropping it into the water bucket beside the anvil.

Only then did he glance up at Gabby. His face began to feel even warmer, whether from the fire or the shock of Gabby in a burgundy and gold dress with her golden curls hanging passed her shoulders. Quickly trying to regain his composure, he turned his attention to putting away his tools. "What happened to the banquet?"

Gabby rolled her eyes. "My mother is trying to marry me off again."

Gareth began to chuckle.

"Hush you," she chided. She moved to the bucket and lifted the helmet from the water. Inspecting it, she nodded. "Impressive."

"It could be better," he replied, running his fingers along the rough edges. He moved back toward the fire.

"Gareth, stop," Gabby commanded, grabbing his arm. "It's perfect. Now will you please put the helmet down and come have some fun?"

He held his arms up in defeat. "Fine, you win. Just let me do one more thing."

Picking up the chisel and hammer, he carefully engraved the trademark that he learned from his mother.

Gabby tried to wait as Gareth made his finishing touches, but patience was never her strong suit. "Oh will you hurry up?"

"Impatience is not becoming for someone of your stature, Lady Thatcher," he teased, making one final tap on the chisel.

Gabby scoffed, raising an eyebrow. "Watch yourself, blacksmith."

Gareth couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips when he glanced up at her. Chuckling, he moved to the flames and doused them with the bucket of water. With the fire extinguished, the only light in the forge was a thin sliver of moonlight from a single, cloudy window.

Moving easily around the familiar forge in the darkness, Gareth removed his heavy leather apron and exchanged it for a light coat that he inherited from Chaucer.

Losing her bearings slightly in the darkness, Gabby backed into the pole with a gasp.

Gareth was almost to the door when he realized that Gabby hadn't moved. Smiling he moved back to where she stood, silently taking her by the hand. When his hand came in contact with her smooth skin, it felt like lightning was shooting through his entire body. Trying to ignore it, he pulled her toward the door. "Come on."


	7. Another Bedtime Story

Gabby felt herself instinctively flush when Gareth grabbed her hand, suddenly thankful for the darkness of the forge. For some reason, the feeling of his rough hand holding her made all the blood in her body rush to her face.

Once they stepped out into the moonlight, the sudden contrast in temperatures raised goose bumps all over her body. She dropped Gareth's hand and wrapped her arms around herself to generate heat.

She stood still for a few minutes, scanning the tournament grounds before her. Torches and campfires pierced the darkness of the night, casting a soothing amber light on the grounds. Squires wandered between campsites, laughing together and sharing stories while their lords were off at banquet. It was Gabby's favorite time at every tournament, and what she would miss the most.

Gabby suddenly felt overwhelmed by emotion. There was still a lingering tingle in her stomach from her earlier encounter with Anton, and her cheeks burned from the feeling of Gareth's hand. Atop of all that, the pain of leaving the life that she knew was unbearable.

When Gabby dropped his hand, Gareth glanced down at her. With her arms wrapped around her chest, she suddenly seemed so small standing beside him. Protective instinct kicked in and he removed his jacket, wrapping it gently around her shoulders.

She glanced up at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

Gareth felt like he had been punched in the stomach when he saw the tears in her eyes. After eighteen years of friendship, he knew better than to press her for whatever was producing those tears.

He simply dropped an arm onto her shoulders gently, without even hesitating to glance around them. There were some that wouldn't take kindly to a blacksmith with his arm around a noblewoman, but at that moment, Gareth didn't care. He slowly led her toward camp, careful to guide her around the mud puddles.

By the time that they reached their small encampment, Gabby's tears had subsided and there was a small smile pulling at her lips.

Abbi's face lit up when she saw her friends approaching. She stood from her place in front of the fire and started toward them.

As Abbi approached, Gareth quickly dropped his arm from Gabby's shoulder, suddenly embarrassed. By the grin that Chaucer was giving him over the fire, he knew that he had been caught.

"It's about time that you two got here," Abbi called as she drew near. "We've been waiting for you."

"Just give me a moment to change," Gabby replied, removing Gareth's jacket. She handed it to him squeezing his hand gently as she did. "Thank you."

Ten minutes later, Gabby emerged from her tent dressed comfortably in a simple cotton dress, a think wool shawl wrapped around her shoulders to keep out the cold.

The three friends settled comfortably on a log near the fire, Gareth sandwiched between the two girls. As Chaucer began one of his stories, Gabby began to feel sleep quickly come over her.

When Chaucer finished his story, he glanced up at his audience. All three had fallen asleep, Gareth leaning against the tree behind him with one of the girl's heads on each shoulder.

Smiling, Geoff turned to Watt, Kate, Roland and Christiana, who sat behind him, tending the fire. "I seem to remember a time when they begged to stay up to the end of a story. What ever happened to that?"

Kate sighed, leading Watt toward the tent. "They grew up, Geoff."

When Gareth woke hours later, the fire was reduced to embers. His eyes still blurry from sleep, he shifted slightly. When he moved, a small murmur reached his ears.

Gabby was still curled up against his left shoulder, her shawl wrapped tightly around her. Aside from her slight adjustment, the campsite was eerily still. Apparently Abbi had managed to move from his side without waking him and had long since gone to her tent.

As he began to slowly become more awake, Gareth felt a chill crawl up his spine. The night had grown significantly cooler. As carefully as possible, he lifted Gabby up in his arms and carried her toward the tent which she shared with Abbi.

Trying not to wake Abbi, he laid Gabby into her bed. Unable to fight a sudden urge, he dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead before turning to leave.

"I saw that."

He turned quickly to see Abbi smiling up at him. Holding up a finger to silence her, he smiled and exited the tent.


	8. Smothered

* * *

Six months later

London

* * *

Gabby shifted in the saddle on the back of a young palomino pony. Biting her bottom lip, she glanced down at the city. The allure of London was quickly fading. The buzz of the city, which had quenched her thirst for adventure for a time, had begun to smother her.

In the distance, she heard a clock chime five o'clock. Her mother would expect her for dinner soon. She glanced longingly up the road, tempted to spur the horse and disappear into the countryside.

She sighed and turned back toward the city, slowly guiding the horse easily through the crowded streets of the city.

"Gabriella!" Jocelyn called, wandering through the house.

She ended up in the open doorway of William's study. He was sifting through results from the first tournaments of the season, running his fingers over the seal of Anton at the top of the lists.

Moving into the room slowly, Jocelyn rested her hand on his shoulder. "Your daughter has disappeared again."

Will shrugged, a small smile pulling at his lips.

Jocelyn raised an eyebrow at him. "This is a serious matter, William. This is the third time this week that she has gone out on her own."

He just narrowed his eyes at his wife, unsure of her point.

"Your daughter is getting a reputation, William."

"Our daughter," Will corrected.

Jocelyn shrugged. "Will you please just talk to her?"

Gabby pulled her horse into the stable quietly, removing the saddle. She jumped when she turned to see her father leaning against the stall.

"Your mother has been looking for you."

Gabby bit her lip, shrugging off the comment.

Will took a seat on the low rail that lined one of the stalls, motioning for Gabby to join him. "This behavior must stop."

She frowned up at him. Her father had never been the one to chide her in the past.

"This is your life now. It is important that you act according to a certain standard."

"I understand," she replied softly.

Will sighed. "Obviously you don't."

Gaby scoffed, but closed her mouth quickly when her father shot a glare at her.

"It is not appropriate for you to go out of the city alone, under any circumstances. I can't condone it."

Will hated to chide his daughter for exercising her free spirit. It was the part of her personality that he admired most. It had become obvious to him that life in London was smothering her spirit.

He stood, dropping a kiss on her forehead before he started toward the house.

"I miss it, Papa," she said softly before he reached the door.

"Me too," he replied, holding his arm out with a smile. "Come on. Your mother will have our heads if we are late for dinner."

Gabby stood at her window later that night, staring down at the dark city streets below. Despite the comfortable lifestyle that her father's winnings had kept the family in, Gabby felt claustrophobic in the city.

She knew that, no matter how hard she tried, she would never be able to live up to the standards that her parents expected of her.

Reluctantly, she crawled into bed, trying to push the thoughts from her mind and get some sleep.


	9. Horseshoes

"Good morning, Lady Thatcher."

Gabby smiled at the portly blacksmith as he opened his shop door for her. "Good morning, Mr. Brooks."

"I trust that you are here to see my young apprentice."

Gabby nodded absently, glancing around at the armor and swords that were strewn all over the shop.

"He's in the back," Mr. Brooks replied, motioning toward the door at the back of the shop.

As she crossed the threshold out into the covered courtyard behind the shop, she was hit by a wall of humidity. She stood back, watching Gareth shape a horseshoe. She picked up a finished shoe from the pile, rolling it in her hands.

Gareth felt Gabby standing behind him without even turning. It was a skill that he had honed in recent months. He continued working the horseshoe on the anvil, keeping his back turned to her. "Hello, Gabby."

She took a seat on the fence behind him, silently watching him work.

"You're here awfully early," he said, dropping the horseshoe into the water.

She sighed, pulling her hair off of her neck. "I couldn't sleep."

He finally turned, wiping the sweat from his brow. "What's on your mind, Gabby?"

She focused her attention on the horseshoe in her hands. "Do you like it here?"

"It's not so bad," Gareth replied, resting his hammer on the anvil. "Brooks is a fair enough boss."

"I mean in London, Gareth. Are you happy?"

He lifted the cooled horseshoe from the water bucker, inspecting it. "Making horseshoes?"

She nodded silently.

"Nah, not really." He tossed the shoe on top of the pile. Slowly crossing the forge, he took a seat next to her on the fence. "Are you?"

She ran her fingers along the rough edges of the horseshoe in her hands, reluctant to answer.

Gareth took the shoe from her hands, tossing it onto the pile. "What is this all about, Gabby?"

"Nothing," she replied, a bit too quickly.

Gareth shot her a concerned glance. "Gabby—"

"It's nothing, really," she assured, jumping off of the fence. "I'll see you tonight."

She darted out the door before he could even open his mouth to reply. Shocked and confused, he stared after her for a moment before returning to work.


	10. The Plan

It had become a ritual, since they returned, for the entire group to gather at the Thatcher house once a week to share dinner and catch up. Good food and conversation often kept them up until the wee hours of the morning and that night was no exception.

Sometime late into the night, Gabby stood on the balcony enjoying the first real warm night of the spring. Leaning back against the rail, she watched her friends and family inside.

Glancing up from his conversation with Chaucer, Gareth caught a glimpse of Gabby disappearing onto the balcony. He tried to return his attention to the poet, but it was too late. His memory slipped back once again to his conversation with Gabby in the forge that morning. As it did, a familiar unsettling feeling came over him.

Until that morning, he had never questioned his new life, at least not out loud. But Gabby's question had planted a seed of doubt in his mind that had since grown roots.

He casually excused himself from the conversation with Geoff and started for the balcony. He stood silently beside Gabby for a few minutes, taking a few deep breaths of warm air before he finally spoke. "You never answered my question."

She turned to face the city, closing her eyes as the breeze blew through her hair. "Do I have to?"

Gareth shook his head. It was obvious that she wasn't happy either.

"I have been thinking about leaving," Gabby said softly.

A small smile pulled at his lips, willing to play along. "Where would you go?"

"I would joust," she replied simply.

He laughed, running a hand through his hair. When he turned to face her, she was looking up at him innocently biting her bottom lip. His smile quickly faded. "You're serious."

She nodded silently.

"Gabby, that's crazy," he said louder than he had intended.

Gabby rolled her eyes and pulled him to a corner of the balcony where no one inside could see them. "No, it's not. Not if you come with me."

"How, Gabby? I don't know how to joust. I'm a blacksmith."

"It doesn't matter," she replied. "I trained with my father for as long as I can remember. I will joust."

"But you're a woman."

Gareth's comment earned him a dirty glare from Gabby.

He sighed. "You know that I didn't mean it like that. I don't doubt your abilities, but the nobles aren't about to let a woman compete."

"There are ways around that."

"Gabby-" Gareth hung his head at her persistence.

Abbi appeared on the balcony. "What is going on?"

"Gabby has gone crazier than usual," Gareth replied, leaning against the railing of the balcony.

"Gareth," Gabby scolded, hitting him on the shoulder.

He rubbed his arm. "What? You are."

"Ok," Abbi said, narrowing her eyes at them in confusion. "Someone please explain."

"I say that we leave London," Gabby said softly, checking to see that their parents weren't listening in. "We go to France and join the tournament cycle. I can joust and you two can act as my squires. It will be brilliant."

Abbi's eyes grew wide and she turned to Gareth. "Is she serious?"

"Apparently," he replied with a shrug.

"OK, then I have only one question. Have you gone mad?"

"The idea's not that crazy if you think about it," Gareth commented, earning a curious smile from Gabby. "The three of us could easily pull this off."

Abby finally gave in, sighing. "How?"

"We lie," Gabby replied simply. "Just like my father did."

"We're going to need a better liar than the three of us," Abbi concluded.

They moved back to the doorway, focusing on Geoff.

"We could always ask him," Gabby said with a shrug. "What could be the harm in that?"

"He could tell our parents," Gareth pointed out.

"He won't," Gabby assured.

"You sure?"

Gabby shrugged. "There's only one way to find out."

As if on cue, Geoff began to cross the room toward the balcony.

"Good evening, Uncle Geoff," Gabby called sweetly.

Chaucer smiled, walking passed her to lean on the railing of the balcony. "Alright, what are you three up to?"

"We need to enlist your services," Gabby said softly, glancing over her shoulder to check that her parents were still otherwise occupied. "How would you like to come out of retirement?"

Chaucer cocked an eyebrow at Gareth. "You intend to take up jousting?"

Gareth shook his head and pointed to Gabby.

"That I can work with," Chaucer said with a chuckle, taking a swig of wine.

"Does that mean you are in?" Gareth asked expectantly.

Chaucer nodded.

"Wait," Abby said quickly, the nervousness in her voice evident. "We're actually going to do this?"

Gabby looked at the two men, who in turn nodded back at her. "I think so. What do you say, Abbi, are you with us?"

Abbi sighed and nodded. "You are going to be the death of me, Gabriella Thatcher."

Gabby threw her arms around her friend's neck.

"Don't make me regret this decision," Abbi said as she returned the embrace.

The small group stood in silence for a moment before Gareth asked the obvious question. "When do we leave?"

Gabby felt her stomach tighten as the reality of the situation began to sink in. Whether it was from excitement or nervousness, she wasn't sure, but in that moment, it didn't matter.

"I have a few loose ends to tie up," Geoff said, swirling his wine glass. "Give me until the end of the week."

"Friday it is then," Gareth said, taking a deep breath. "We'll meet at the stables on the edge of town after dusk."

Geoff smiled and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. "Relax, children. This will be the grandest adventure of your days."

He started back to the party, a little skip in his step.

"Uncle Geoff," Gabby called after him.

He stopped just inside the dining room and spun around, looking at her expectantly.

"You can't tell our parents."

"Mums the word," Geoff said with a wink. "Your secret is safe with me."

The other three watched him walk away before exchanging a nervous glance.

"Are we sure about this?" Abbi asked uncertainly.

Gabby and Gareth both shrugged.


End file.
